


Brevity in Death

by BabaTunji



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, BPFandomAppreciation2k20, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, King Killmonger, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, This Is Not A Coercive Band-aid, Trauma, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22664644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabaTunji/pseuds/BabaTunji
Summary: 2044 T'Challa travels back to 2016
Relationships: Erik Killmonger & T'Challa, Erik Killmonger & W'Kabi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Brighter Stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20685962) by [esama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/pseuds/esama). 



> This is really indulgent and mostly for character study and a fun sort of what if. I have a 3 chapter lead, and hoping for smooth update schedule. 
> 
> Posted for BPFandomApprection2k20 Contentdrive  
> https://writingwakanda.tumblr.com/post/190455371181/bpfandomappreciation2k20

Most people would agree there are turning points. Moments in their life that decided the flow and direction of the rest of their lives. Be it a marriage or a chance meeting, the birth or death of another. He, like most, has several turning points. Chance meetings, deaths and births. Decisions made, intentionally or by negligence. Being transported to one of those turning points—after more than 20 years of making peace with the fall-out is… unexpected. 

His cousin, alive and ferocious, bears down on his sister. In a battle already decided, a story he’s had to make peace with. He’s moving before he really thinks about it, to separate the two. Aided by a mutated herb and a lifetime of fighting. 

His cousin senses him and makes the split decision to disengage from Shuri and face him. Seeing that face, the conviction. It makes him falter, not in action no, but mentally. 

They clash, he fights on instinct, and battle-honed reflexes. How is this possible? How could—His cousin manages a very close swipe to his jaw, and he retaliates by trapping him in a hold he learned from a god now dead. Or is he alive? He can barely focus on the fight, mind flailing at the impossibility set before him. How, How, How? 

His cousin breaks from the hold, before he manages to neutralize the man and he sighs. Honestly it is only his experience with the herb the first time that won him their match, N’Jadaka is a fighting genius. But if a then 36-year-old T’Challa could beat him, then he is no match for a 57-year-old one. 

This time when N’Jadaka engages, he’s more cautious, sensing this disparity between them. It’s no use. T’Challa makes his decision. No more blood will be spilled today, not if he can help it. He hasn’t fought fairly in a long time. Now, he uses several of those dirty tricks. Strength wise, they are equals, but not in experience, not in knowledge of how the herb worked. He smiles, almost apologetic when N’Jadaka screams. But he doesn’t stop, intent on knocking N’Jadaka. 

From his periphery he sees himself, younger and confused, along with other warriors on both ‘sides’ gathered to watch the spectacle. T’Challa the elder is not part of the challenge. He is an unnamed contender, but then they all broken tradition during this battle. Once he’s sure N’Jadaka is incapacitated, he starts to lift the king in a carry but is interrupted. 

“The challenge is not over.”‌ The voice–is his voice. His younger self steps forward to challenge.

He looks over the gathered crowd. Most of them are dead in his timeline. 

“The challenge is illegal.” Something like mirth forms in his chest as he addresses his younger self. “You lost; this is rebellion.” 

T’Challa the younger doesn’t relent. T’Challa the elder’s amusement gives way to a more serious consideration. He too rebelled, hadn’t he? Against the usurper king. They consider T'Challa the rightful king. His mother, his sister, Nakia, the Dora Milaje, even the Jabari sided with him. Above them, somewhere a C.I.A. operative is killing Dogs of War. 

“Will you stand in as his champion?” T'Challa the younger’s expression is familiar. T’Challa the elder wonders when he will realize why this strange old face seems so familiar. He doesn’t look like T’Chaka. 

“Yes.” He must look alien to those gathered. Dressed in unfamiliar clothes bearing no insignia, no armor but with such a familiar face. He is a stranger, an anomaly and yet. Something must whisper in their memory, their thoughts. Where have they seen him before? Who is he? 

T’Challa the younger is courageous. He is fighting for his throne after all, his birthright, earned after years of training and grooming. He would dare deny him? T’Challa the elder dares. He dares that and so much more. 

He is fighting himself, and it is not a fair fight. He is not as kind to himself. He does not stop when T’Challa the younger starts to falter. He is making a point. To those gathered, to his young supporters. T’Challa the younger falls and he doesn’t get back up. Eventually he turns back to the unconscious form of N’Jadaka. What type of king would this warmonger make? 

Wakanda and the rest of the world would be finding out very soon. 

*

*

*

Sologon comes to see T’Challa days after he and his family are placed under house arrest and the herb stripped from his body. 

The Dora Milaje defer to him resentfully much like Okoye when she arrested them for treason. The irony of the arrest after her own Dora rose to fight against Border Tribe, the Dogs of War division and Killmonger himself doesn’t escape him. Sologon bids the Dora to leave the two of them alone. 

T’Challa speaks first. “Why would you support him?” He addresses the man in Wakandan. It’s not the first question on his mind, not his most pressing worry. But it’s a question he would like an answer to.

“He is our king. Why would I support you?"

"I never yielded, he is an outsider, he wants to take us to war!” T’Challa doesn’t understand why this stranger would be loyal to a leader who wants to drag them all to their deaths. Someone who didn’t care about Wakanda or its people. Someone who is so disdainful of Wakandan tradition, so full of hate.

“You would be dead had he slit your throat instead of tossing you over the waterfall. As for war, is that not his right as king?” Sologon doesn’t seem bothered. By the insanity of king Killmonger, or T’Challa’s insult. ‘Outsider’ is a very bad word in Wakandan.

“The king should protect Wakanda, not open it up to attack.” That is what Killmonger's horrible plans will do once he sets every world power in opposition to Wakanda. T'Challa knows his decision to challenge was the right one.

Sologon appears as blasé as he had days ago when he began to lift an unconscious Killmonger from the ground. As if T'Challa is a slow student and he, a patient but tired teacher. 

“What did your father tell you when you spoke to him after your coronation?” 

The question takes T’Challa aback, and he is slow to answer. Sologon continues anyway. “Did he tell you to uphold tradition?”

T’Challa stares back at the stranger, mulish. Wakanda survived because of its tradition, not in spite of it. “Or did he tell you something like—‘surround yourself with good people’?” 

Sologon is still waiting for T’Challa’s answer and it turns T’Challa’s gut. 

“My father would never support someone like Killmonger.” His father killed N’Jobu for attempting what his son almost succeeded in. 

Sologon nods his head then asks, “Are you your father?” 

T’Challa, for the first time, falters. He had time while with the Jabari to meditate on the series of events that brought him to this point. The choices made not just by him but by his father, Zuri, N’Jobu, W’Kabi, the council and lastly Killmonger himself. 

“I am the rightful king.” Sologon interfered in an ongoing challenge, defeated his so-called king in combat. T’Challa knows he can defeat Killmonger as well if he gives it his all. There is simply no precedence for a foreign-born king, nor for someone who promises to be as destructive as Killmonger. Sologon seems to lose his patience after that.

“If you truly believe that, after our own traditions crowned another king and stripped you of the herb you stole—” He hadn’t stolen it, Nakia had. He hadn’t yielded, this is all set on technicalities that even the council—“Then it might be best to kill you.” 

T’Challa remembers they are alone and the rolling in his gut intensifies. So, Sologon came to kill him. Their fight at the great mound, even with the herb running in T’Challa’s veins the man had brutally incapacitated him. To a man like this, he is already dead. Now such a man is a foot soldier for Killmonger.

“Won’t N’Jadaka wish to kill me himself this time?” It’s gallows humor, born from a rising desperation, but also deep weariness. His father died not too long ago, and now he might just be joining him very soon. 

Sologon tilts his head, and the action reminds T’Challa of something but it’s too elusive a thought for him to chase in the moment. “He would. He regrets not burying you the first time, but he’s currently traversing the DJalia. I will not disturb him yet.” 

Sologon’s mention of their ancestral plane makes something in T’Challa’s feigned bravado break. “My mother and sister, if you have any honor—” 

Sologon interrupts him sounding annoyed. “Your mother is much smarter than you and has already agreed to my terms. She even managed to get some special allowances. She and your sister will be kept safe from your cousin, I gave her my word.” 

T’Challa goggles at the man stupefied. “What terms? How can you make such promises?”

Sologon places a hand on his hip. “You did not even think to bargain, did you? You were just going to let me kill you.” There’s a sardonic quality to his tone. 

T’Challa blanches at the casual discussion of his dying but also at the revelation that his mother and sister were apparently safe and already in agreement with this man. Could he trust such words? “I want to speak to her, let me speak to her.” 

Sologon rolls his eyes. It’s such an immature expression on his weathered features. “No. She will help you bargain with me, and I already gave her too much. You will bargain with me alone, without any help, or you will die. Make your choice.” 

When coached like that it isn’t really a choice. “You could be lying.” They could both be dead or hurt; this could all just be a ruse to make him more amenable. 

Sologon nods, “Finally using your brain I see.” Then he pulls up a display on his kimoyo beads. It’s video footage, there’s even a time stamp. In a room much more lavish than his own, T’Challa watches his sister pace and his mother rest on a long reclining chair. Then Sologon says, “Princess, stop trying to take control of the system network, if you keep trying, I will confiscate your kimoyo beads.” T’Challa watches his sister startle in a guilty manner he recognizes almost painfully. His mother must also hear Sologon because she stirs from the sofa. Then the display blinks out. 

T’Challa realizes he is breathing heavily, close to tears maybe. Of joy or anguish he doesn’t know. He hadn’t lost his remaining family yet, and if this man and the furnishing he saw in their room isn’t lying they already agreed to his terms, whatever they were. 

“How can you promise their safety? You swore on your honor, Killmonger has none.” 

Sologon shrugs. “Our king is not as unreasonable as you think. Besides, civil war is avoidable if we all compromise.” 

“Why don’t you become king yourself? You can defeat him, you have honor.” T’Challa is forcing himself to let go of his assertion that he is the rightful king. He needed to bargain with this strange man and convene with his mother as quickly as possible. 

Sologon shakes his head and then smiles. “My honor is unseen. It rests on your mother not doing what I know she is very capable of doing. It rests on you assisting your cousin instead of impeding him, it is reliant on…” He trails off. “Hope. I will admit to not having such hope for quite some time. But I am hopeful now. I believe we can come to an agreement, and I want to believe in your ability to do what is right.” 

The honesty implores T’Challa to listen, to consider. It also gives him a better idea of what his mother probably agreed to, and what he would be agreeing to if Sologon did not kill him. 

“Will you stop him? If he goes too far?”

Sologon says, “Yes.” 

*

*

*

Erik is in the ancestral plains and has been for a while. He is pretty sure he died. Killed by someone he’s never seen before, and before he could fix his mistake at the waterfall. Besides the frustration, and the anger, and something that’s probably grief… he’s bored. If this is the afterlife, it’s pretty shitty. He’s alone, not even the apparition of his father to guide him.

He measures the time at first, for something to do. Minutes turn into hours into days. On what is probably the 4th or maybe 5th day, someone else joins him. He recognizes the face, and lunges. His hands meet air and he falls down from the force of his momentum. The figure turns to where he's lying on the ground. 

“You’ve sulked for days.‌ It is time to wake up.” The man who killed him tells him. 

Erik closes his eyes, restrains the urge to scream. Control. He used to be so controlled and it took him all the way to Wakanda. All the way to that stupid fight where he died. 

“You don’t wake up from death.”‌ Did this mean his killer is dead too? Who killed him after Erik failed?

His killer steps closer and Erik tamps down on the urge to pull back, to run. He is already dead, there isn’t anything left to scare him. The man is old, he has lines on his forehead and high cheekbones. He looks a lot like Erik’s cousin actually. Is he a long-lost cousin? An uncle maybe? 

“You are not dead, N’Jadaka. Just resting, otherwise I would not be able to reach you this easily. Now—” 

The man who killed him reaches down, slow and intent. Erik tries to move, can’t.‌ Why can’t he move?

Fingers, now solid, touch his forehead. “Please, wake up.”

The world goes black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik wakes up and we learn a little more about T'Challa the elder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik was really fun to write here.

Erik comes to, in an unfamiliar room. He spends the first few seconds orienting himself before acknowledging the other presence in the room. It’s the man from his dream, the stranger who he thought killed him. The man must realize he’s awake because he takes a knee. It’s not what Erik is expecting at all, but he feels lethargic as fuck, so he doesn’t immediately do what he really wants to which is choke the stranger out.

“Welcome back, N’Jadaka. I apologize for disturbing your travels, but you’ve been asleep for days. The council is getting antsy.” 

None of what he said makes sense so, Erik assumes it’s all fake. 

“Who are you and where am I?” Easy questions while he got his muscles up and firing again. 

“You may call me Sologon. I stood in as your champion during the challenge at the great mound. You are currently in the king’s wing of the palace proper in Birnin Zana.” 

More explanation than he asked for, but information, nonetheless. In theory he should recognize this wing being king and all, but he’d been busy with other things before his cousin rose from the dead.

“Who’s king right now?” He should have buried his slimy ass cousin in the ground the first time. How had he even survived that drop? And how the hell had he forgotten one of the simplest rules of mercenary work? No body, no proof. 

“You are. I won the challenge in your stead.” Sologon sounds almost amused, but Erik doesn’t know him well enough to tell. He’s also still kneeling. Which must be protocol or something, till Erik tells him to stand. Erik doesn’t know Wakandan royal etiquette that well and he has the impression people haven’t been following it much around him. He’s also starting to get confused. These are some elaborate lies Sologon is spinning. 

“Why?” He’s not stupid, if this random man could murk his ass, and his cousin’s, he should be king, not Erik. 

“Because the challenge was illegal. Prince T’Challa stole the heart-shaped herb and would be dead if not for your mercy.” 

Pretty words coming from someone Erik’s never met in his life. Erik hadn’t meant to show ‘mercy,’ he just wanted there to be no body. Not even to bury.

“What are  _ you  _ on then? You were faster than me.” The way everyone told it, only the Black Panther could use the herb, it killed people in the past who tried to steal it. Was that lies too? Or is there some sort of special juju running in the family?

“Something I made myself. It’s similar to the heart-shaped herb.” Sologon admits it easily and Erik wonders at this man apparently making something even stronger than the heart-shaped herb. Then Sologon asks, “May I stand? My knees will begin to complain soon.” 

Erik doesn’t care, it’s also a reminder that for all that this guy could apparently beat his ass, he’s old. It soothes his ego a bit that a man like this is asking for his permission to stand up. 

“Doesn’t your bootleg version give you regeneration or something?” 

Sologon chuckles, apparently understanding Erik’s disparaging joke. “Not as well as the heart-shaped herb unfortunately.” 

He seems to take Erik’s response as a no and stays on the one knee. He also doesn’t ask again. 

Erik keeps asking him questions, about the apparently illegal challenge, about who’s where. They get to the princess and Erik almost loses his shit.

“You did what?!” 

Sologon doesn’t even flinch. “She is incredibly resourceful, my king. I did what I could to handicap her for now, but it won’t last. Her mother agreed to my terms and will be keeping her in line till you can better control the situation.” 

“Why didn’t you just kill them?” Hadn’t he learnt from Erik’s mistake? Keeping anyone who is a problem alive, isn’t going to cause anything but trouble in the future. Or has he been waiting for Erik himself to give the order? For the first time during their conversation, Sologon starts to look annoyed. It irks Erik more than it should. 

“I am concerned with your public image. The former Queen Mother has already done some damage. Killing her now or her daughter, could ignite civil war.”

“What do you mean my image? This isn’t a popularity contest, I’m king now.” 

Sologon’s left eyebrow is practically twitching in consternation, and Erik almost snickers. 

“She had her daughter release footage from your missions as an American operative. It’s painted you as a bloodthirsty warmonger.” 

Now, that makes Erik pause. “The fuck? Show me.” He _ is _ a bloodthirsty warmonger, he thought Wakanda liked that? Or at least the Border Tribe does anyway. 

Sologon shows him. Still on the one knee, he pulls up a display in between them. Erik is reclining almost comfortably now on the bed. He stops reclining so comfortably when a scene out of one of his recurring nightmares pops up. On the display, children are screaming, the screaming cuts off one spray of bullets at a time until it’s deathly silent. There are more videos of course, hundreds of them, short clips. How had they even gotten this footage? Had there really been War Dogs trailing him this entire time? What the actual fuck?

“People have watched that?” The council saw this? He doesn’t really care, but based on the expression on Sologon’s face, he should. 

“Thousands of Wakandan citizens have watched the footage, my king.” 

“You can’t… pull the videos down?” 

“It’s too late. If we do, it might make the impact even worse.” Erik understands that; he also can’t manage to feel much shame for what the footage depicted. He has a scar for every kill in those videos. 

“You mentioned civil war earlier. What is that about?” He needs to know the situation.

“The council has decided to follow tradition and not challenge your kingship. But there are many who do not welcome a foreign-born king. They are scared, and in the right hands it could easily devolve into something worse.” Erik snorts, leans back in bed. His back is tense, waiting for any signs of foul play. If Sologon tried anything right now just cause Erik looked relaxed—“So, you’re just helping me out of the goodness of your heart?” 

He remembers how his own people treated him after some of those missions, he had been denied or delayed promotions for being too neat, too efficient, too heartless. Psychopath/sociopath got thrown around a lot too. Still he made it all the way to Lt. Commander, right up till he got a lead on Klaue and went AWOL. 

“I’m helping you because I think you have the heart to do what needs to be done.” 

Sologon sounds earnest and Erik hates it. 

“Cut the crap, what do you get out of this? Huh? Is this some sort of revenge fantasy for you? To get back at your people? Did ol’ T’Chaka fuck you over back when the dinosaurs roamed or something?” 

Sologon’s lips twitch at the dinosaurs comment. Something must be wrong with Erik because he wants to smile too. This isn’t a guy who is easily riled up, at least not by the person he claims to be supporting. 

“I’m fifty-seven if you wanted to know. Not ancient, not young either.” 

He doesn’t answer Erik’s real question and Erik does some math.

“Did you know my dad?” The question comes out more interested than he wants it to. But it’s really the only reason he can think of besides Sologon wanting to fuck some people over royally.

Sologon’s expression changes, into something that might be sadness. His shoulders droop a bit and hard-won instinct has Erik tensing up for an attack.

“No, I did not. I was not made aware of the events that led to his death till long after.” 

Erik shouldn’t feel disappointed, but he does.

“Where’s Agent Ross now?” He doubles back on one of the loose ends Sologon mentioned earlier. His question makes Sologon smile and that makes Erik feel weird. Like as if his words were making the man proud of something. He doesn’t like being seen as predictable. Not by someone he himself couldn’t predict. 

“He’s currently in Border Tribe custody. I had to, otherwise the division would kill him before you could decide how he should be handled.”

Mention of the Dogs of War division turns Erik’s attention to something else. 

“What were the casualties?” Agent Ross shot down Talon Fighters. 

“Zero. But their pride is wounded, which is much worse than any fatality. I’m sure many want to be the one to present you with his corpse.” Now that makes Erik smile. Most of what Sologon is reporting seems like a disaster waiting to happen, but at least some things aren’t a total loss.

“So, where’s my cousin being kept? I want his execution broadcasted. Something they can watch on repeat.” 

Sologon’s expression changes and Erik knows he’s not gonna like what the man tells him. 

“He agreed to my terms, and since I was representing you… it would be very unwise for you to execute him so soon.” 

“He broke the challenge rules, isn’t that treason?” 

“Acting in your stead, I pardoned him.” 

“Why?!” He’s shouting again. It feels like they keep taking 5 steps forward and then 3 steps back. He’s sure they’re on the same page and then Sologon drops some bullshit like this. 

“Because it’s good for your image and turning your cousin into a martyr would be bad.” 

“Not killing him is stupid!” Okay the martyr point made sense, but Erik refuses to back down. Then he runs the conversation back in his head. Sologon seemed to be a real slippery sort of guy. He said ‘so soon’ earlier. It didn’t mean never, just a delay.

“When can I kill him?” He asks and again, Sologon gives him that smile as if he’s doing something good. Erik wants to punch him.

“When he can no longer be used as a symbol or rallying point to the Wakandan people.” 

Erik hates that the shit makes sense. Heck, he’s even done it before himself. Martyrs are bad for hostile takeover, the quieter more mundane the death the better, and sometimes, money or well-placed threats ease the wheel better than murder ever could. 

“I burnt the garden; he can’t steal anymore of the heart-shaped herb.” No, just raise a fuss and cause civil war apparently. But if it comes down to a fight, Erik would gladly murder his ass. 

Sologon, in a recurring pattern of popping his goddamn bubble, tells him: “You need to regrow it in a timely manner. The order of succession is important for stability, you should also consider making an heir or naming one soon.” 

Erik doesn’t even want to ask why this time; they’ve done this song and dance several times during their bizarre conversation. Nor does he spend much thought on the blasé manner this guy is telling him to get to baby making. He takes some pleasure in knowing Sologon’s knees are probably hurting him right now. Serves him right, who told him to kneel? Nobody else has kneeled like this in his presence since he became king. Erik wouldn’t even have known that is some sort of etiquette when delivering reports. 

“Tell me why the fuck would I give my enemies a way to hurt me, like re-growing a garden that gives people superpowers? Explain it to me like I’m five, go.” 

Like each time before, Sologon does. Erik doesn’t like it, but the recurring and honestly frustrating pattern of the morning is that he grudgingly agrees. 

“How long will it take to regrow?” When was the last time someone even thought to burn it? Erik isn’t so arrogant to think he’s the first to fuck up the succession, maybe the first ‘foreign-born’ one, but not the first. 

“Your blood will be the fertilizer, so depending on how much you can give as time goes on, it will be years.” Sologon sounds way too casual describing something Erik is almost certain can’t be true. 

Erik saves his outrage for another day and tells Sologon, “Send me some books about it.” 

Sologon nods and keeps talking. They go from deciding what to do about his first failed mandate as king—a plan which Sologon gently but disdainfully tears apart till Erik is telling him firmly to shut up about it—to whether or not Erik could place all the council elders on house arrest. Short answer: no, long answer: also no. 

The discussion is equally depressing and invigorating. He can’t believe he’s still king. That his own stupid mistake hasn’t cost him his entire life’s work. That someone like Sologon has basically fallen into his lap. It feels like—It feels like Linda all over again. He turns away when his eyes start to water for no reason. 

Sologon doesn’t mention it. “Consider doing some publicity tours soon, traveling to different city-states, meeting the people. It will help your image immensely, and make your enemies think it’s safe to plot in the capital.” 

Sologon doesn’t name his enemies and Erik makes a personal note, to see who’s been talking reckless while he was asleep. “What happened to the men that showed up with my cousin?” He can’t remember the name for the group, W’Kabi mentioned them off-handedly once. But he remembers they had been dressed differently, Gorilla imagery instead of the usual panther. 

“The Jabari? I… strongly suggested that they remain in the city till you could speak to their leader, Lord M’Baku.” 

Thinking about what Sologon ‘strongly suggesting’ might look like makes him chuckle.

“Yeah, I bet. Give me a run-down, what's their deal?” He needs a shower, and some food and to confirm all what Sologon is telling him is actually true, but the anxiety from earlier is dissipating piece by piece. He still doesn’t give the man permission to stand. 

Erik likes him on his knees. 

*

*

*

Okoye spends breakfast alone. A pattern, since their new king ascended. W’Kabi has been kept busy these last few days, doing as Sologon bid. She has searched the Panther Tribe records among others. There is no mention or trace of who this man could be. Add that to the fact that he had been able to defeat not just N’Jadaka but T’Challa as well without the herb? It frightened Okoye. She stood watch as the priests gave T’Challa and Sologon both the concoction to remove the herb from their bodies. Something Sologon himself backed and the shaken council insisted on. T’Challa had been wracked with the usual changes and shaking that overcame a Black Panther when the herb is removed from their system. Sologon appeared unaffected; later he confirmed he had not ingested the herb at all but taken the concoction anyway as a sign of good faith.

The mention of ‘good faith’ made her angry. She committed treason, much like T’Challa and they all knew it. There were technicalities of course, T’Challa never yielded. They assumed without confirmation he was dead. But the use of the herb during the challenge, Nevermind the Dora Milaje’s actions against the king were all grounds for execution, among other things. Yet Sologon argued before the council for leniency, and a pardon. Not just for her, but for the Dora and everyone who participated in the illegal challenge. Even now she can see the politics at work which ensnares not just her but the council and the tribes themselves. She felt like a puppet on a string, and she hated it. 

Nakia is currently unaccounted for, as were others. Besides a carefully worded edict to the division and the Hatut Zeraze, Sologon seems entirely unbothered. At least N’Jadaka’s horrible 1st mandate as king had been foiled. But she doesn’t know what to expect now. Not from their new king and especially not from this frustratingly familiar stranger who is oh so delicately holding Wakanda together by the seams. She does not trust him; she does not trust his vague answers or his half-truths. But she saw that Sologon like her is a secret keeper, and she understood that sometimes not everyone needed to know the truth. The Black Panther protected Wakanda and part of that is protecting the country from itself. She doesn’t condone T’Chaka’s decision to bury N’Jobu’s treason, but she understands why he had. 

More than anything she wished it hadn’t come to this, wished things hadn’t gone so disastrously, wished T’Challa had been more prudent in his first interaction with N’Jadaka. Wished many more things that are too little too late. She is grateful that T’Challa— _ her _ king a treasonous part of her whispers—is alive and well. She is grateful for leniency, she is grateful at least for now, for the unknown represented in Sologon. 

After breakfast she reads through daily reports from the Dora, Kingsguard and Hatut Zeraze. The usual division report hasn’t been given since the events at the great mound. She isn’t yet annoyed enough to seek the division leader out but soon she will be. Whatever their differences, or allegiance she couldn’t be kept unaware of their movements. She receives a message minutes into her reading from Sologon. Reporting, N’Jadaka is awake and would be calling a meeting soon. She rereads the message several times for any hint as to what the meeting would be about, or even what state their new king would be in. She finds nothing. She forwards the message to the former Queen Mother now dowager and attempts to make sense of one of the lazier guard rotation reports from Kingsguard. 

An hour later she finishes responding to the messages requiring a response and makes plans to have a talk with the Kingsguard on the night shift in Dihyur courts. She’s making her way from the Dora Milaje quarters to the central palace proper when someone walks in-step beside her. A glance confirms her suspicions from her most irreverent message this morning. Lord M’Baku looks pleased with himself. 

“Good morning general, did you not get much sleep last night?” 

She ignores him and keeps walking. 

“I ask because you look very consternated. Lack of sleep can do that to you.” When he shows no signs of leaving, she greets him.

“Good morning Lord M’Baku, is there something I can assist you with?” Okoye is perfectly polite.

“At the moment? No. I merely meant to offer company.” Okoye can’t tell if the Jabari man is being earnest or not, she can’t really find it in herself to care. Their presence following the challenge at the Great Mound has been nothing but an irritation. Sologon insisted they stay till N’Jadaka could speak to Lord M’Baku. That was 6 days ago. She comes to a stop at an intersection of walkways. She took the garden route to the main administration building today without thinking, there is a lot of foot traffic.

“Your concern is noted but unnecessary.” She isn’t even sure it’s concern, the Jabari lord seems to simply enjoy pestering people. Be they council elder or common citizen. It works more effectively than she would like to hide the fierceness of a man with his size and capability. He nearly beat T’Challa, would have perhaps had he been more ruthless in his attack. 

“It is not just concern that drives me, General but curiosity. Tell me, why are you all following the lead of a stranger?” 

Okoye finally turns to face M’Baku. His expression is serious, lacking the usual mirth he radiated. 

“He is not a stranger.”

“What proof does he have to offer? You all seem to take his fighting ability and his word at face value.”

“He is Panther Tribe.”

“Like your king Killmonger?” She suspected but had no proof that Sologon is a brother of T’Chaka’s. That or a cousin. With the number of secrets that unearthed lately, one like Sologon seems almost mundane, almost. There were ways to find out for sure, but she doubts Sologon will allow it. Some secrets were better left alone. It helps that this particular secret didn’t want to be king.

“He is acting in Wakanda’s best interest, so I and others will follow.” It’s hard to admit aloud that she herself may not have acted in Wakanda’s best interest in past action. If T’Challa defeated N’Jadaka that second time, then maybe—she is too old to be making excuses. Either their traditions held, and the value and history quantified within were sound, or they weren’t. She cannot be having a crisis of faith now. 

“By supporting a king that has such a bright idea as to alert the entire world of our existence?”

M’Baku sounds incredulous, Okoye concurs. 

“He stopped that ill-thought mandate and has reassured the people of Wakanda more than any of us could have.” This at least is no exaggeration. His pardons, and his directions thus far have been focused on damage control. Even if T’Challa succeeded in defeating N’Jadaka, there would be turmoil. But Sologon seems to defy logic, managing to cajole and convince ornery council members and clan mothers alike to see things his way. They are all aware on some level they are walking the very edge of civil war. Thus far Sologon has been a steadying hand, pulling the country and it’s factions back from that edge. 

“Your husband sided with the king I’m told, as did many of your tribe.” 

Okoye may have killed her husband that day she thinks. In the name of duty. She cannot condense the last twenty-five years into something as simple as an explanation. She made her choice as a young girl, to let go and forgive. But she knows many of her tribespeople did not.

“The king has won their respect.” It’s an admission that pains her. There has always been some resentment amongst the tribes, depending on the ruling monarch or dynasty. But that resentment grew into something else following Klaue’s successful infiltration. Border Patrol lost 36 people that day, not all from the Border Tribe but most were. With no one to blame but themselves a harsher more militant culture pervades Border Tribe and Border Patrol in extension.

“For the price of one dead colonizer?” M’Baku doesn’t sound convinced. 

“No, for the deaths of 36 Wakandans.” W’Kabi’s parents were among that number.

She arrives at the doors of the administration building. M’Baku follows her inside, Okoye doesn’t miss the way the Kingsguard on duty eye him. They seem to take her presence as permission to allow him through.

“So, what do you think will happen during today’s meeting? Now that your king is awake.”

“I think he will quickly grow as tired as I am of you.” Okoye responds, deadpan and walks away to join the Dora Milaje already in attendance. 

*

*

*

Everyday he woke up to a past that shouldn’t be and every day, he stayed awake a little longer. Trying almost childishly to hold on to this new reality. He knows intellectually, this is not his timeline. Not his past, not truly but he can’t stand by and allow this timeline to destroy itself.

There was a time where he might have. When presented with the opportunity he now was, he might have sat back. Let things work themselves out and interfere more subtly. Believed in a younger version of himself’ ability to do the right thing. That time is long past, it died with his sister and countless other mistakes of idealistic thought. The world would not be kind to Wakanda. How could it be? By its account (and even some of Wakanda’s) they have abandoned them. Whenever Wakanda’s leaders turned to do the ‘right’ thing they would be met with opposition, if not outright hostility. He hadn’t been prepared for that. He thought he had of course, thought their security and their careful politicking would be enough. N’Jadaka would not make the same mistakes

It’s easier than he expects. It shouldn’t surprise him, but it does. He tells the truth, as much as he can and lets people assume what they will. He negotiates with his mother and thwarts his sister’s attempts to regain control of systems he had to remake from scratch at least twice in his timeline. He has the edge of future knowledge, but he knows that will only hold for a while. Shuri is brilliant, and a part of him can’t help but feel giddy at their mostly one-sided interactions. Her stubborn determination makes him ache. 

His negotiation with himself goes as badly as he expects, but quickly turns for the better once T’Challa the younger remembers he is not alone. T’Challa the elder stares at a mirror of youth and tries not to be too scornful. The young could only grow after all. 

It’s easy to talk and negotiate. To dig into old memories, and allow the ghosts now living to speak with him. Most damning it’s so easy to look up at the face of the man he killed all those years ago and see himself. N’Jadaka is cruel, confused, uninformed but against all hope he is trusting T’Challa. It’s a fragile sort of trust. It relies on T’Challa playing the part of humble but honest servant. N’Jadaka has no one he can trust, it’s clear by the numerous questions he asks T’Challa. Clear in the way he exerts his dominance by having T’Challa remain kneeling. But it’s easy, easier than it has any right to be for T’Challa to play along. 

He was Wakanda’s king for 16 years, soothing N'Jadaka's ego is child's play in comparison.

It’s entertaining almost to see how his cousin thinks, to watch him form connections and come to the same ones as T’Challa. He doubts N’Jadaka will take his words at face value or that he will be so agreeable when it comes time to discuss the situation outside of Wakanda. No doubt he’s been doing his own research, perhaps even spoke to W’Kabi or someone else to fact check or compare before this next meeting. But T’Challa is heartened at every agreement, every similar inference that his cousin is not so unreachable, not so far gone as to prefer meaningless bloodshed over something more direct. 

N’Jadaka planned his coming for years, dedicated hundreds of lives to the altar of his mission. He could wait a little longer to get it right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing ahead and have a decent outline.  
> Note for Sologon's age: He lost 5 years in the snap


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited council meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rough outline for this, gonna try and update regularly in the coming weeks. Comment if you like.

M’Baku is tired of being kept on a leash. It is a long one, but a leash, nonetheless. He had been approached by Killmonger’s champion, following T’Challa’s loss at the Great Mound. An old man who set M’Baku’s guard on high alert and asked much too knowingly about Jabari affairs. Even if the man hadn’t so very gently threatened his life, and the tenuous hold he had on the Jabari council of mothers, his unnerving knowledge on just what drove M’Baku to come down from the mountain on challenge day does. Sologon is a wildcard. It soothes his pride a bit after some curious snooping, he wasn’t the only one caught with their pants down by the man. Still, he is tired of secrets and even more tired of Panther Tribe family drama. 

Most of the men and women that came down with him have already returned home, with thankfully no casualties. He instructed some of his most trusted among them to relay the news and a portion of what Sologon told him to the council of mothers. In the meantime, he and a much smaller group are being hosted in the palace proper. On the sixth morning after the battle at the Great Mound, they receive a message from Sologon by word of an irritated looking Dora Milaje that the king would be having a council meeting in the afternoon. She doesn’t answer any of his questions and leaves with the promise that a Dora would be escorting him to the meeting place at the appointed time.

Naturally he took that as his cue to go speak to someone who wasn’t a simple messenger. He wasn’t so lucky as to run into the man at the center of this odd mess, but Hanuman blessed his steps so that he spoke to the General. Their conversation didn’t tell him much, and honestly why everyone is suddenly so mum on what he knows must be the height of conversation elsewhere, really irked him. He does manage to glean some information, confirming what he already suspected from the failed challenge days prior. The General supported T’Challa, even now. Her tribe and in extension her husband did not. He knew more about lowland history than they probably did about the highlands. So, he guessed, mostly by which affiliations were present days ago at the Great Mound and which were not, whom Killmonger’s strongest supporters might be.

He loiters inside the administration building he followed the General into and no doubt makes the Kingsguard and occasional Dora very uncomfortable. He tinkers with the things he thinks looks interesting and is bored for the most part. Much of lowland technology and tools seemed to require kimoyo beads as means of interfacing. They have yet to be given any. Something he intends to raise an issue to if their stay extends further than this meeting or this week. He’s nudging a container that he suspects is a portable cooler to see if it would open if he annoyed it enough when someone comes up to speak with him. 

“Lord M’Baku, please—Allow me.” He turns around and finds the speaker to be Sologon. 

The man looks concerned, probably for the container. M’Baku sets the container down, a bit chagrined. 

“Sologon, you did not give me kimoyo beads when you insisted, I stay to talk to your king! It’s been very inconvenient.” 

Sologon makes a motion and the container’s top side slides open to reveal several bottles of juice, water, and something that’s probably tea. “I apologize, Lord M’Baku, I didn’t expect the king to sleep as long as he did.” 

M’Baku reaches into the container to lift out a bottle of water. “Sleep?” What sort of sleep lasted several days?

“He has been traveling the DJalia these past few days. Would you like to join me on my walk to the meeting room?” It takes him a few moments to remember the name, he opens the bottle and takes a long sip before he gets on his feet to follow the man. 

“Your ancestral planes?” Sologon slides the cooler shut again. 

“Yes, I think he may have gotten stuck. But all is well now.” Sologon leads him deeper into a maze of hallways and rooms. On his left M’Baku can see through the floor length windows that they’re slowly going higher. Sologon’s mention of Killmonger being ‘stuck’ in the lowland ancestral planes amuses M’Baku but he chooses not to comment.

“Why not take the elevator?” Most likely Sologon wanted to speak to him before the meeting. 

“Everyone will take the elevator; I’m trying to avoid them.” Sologon’s eyes are twinkling. He supposes being the most powerful warrior in the room by a margin, made others want to seek Sologon’s presence, or ask favors. 

“But not me?” He feels a little insulted Sologon is apparently more apprehensive of the elderly on lowlands council than M’Baku. 

“I like talking to you. I do not like talking to some of them.” M’Baku takes the compliment and they lapse into silence again.

“Are you T’Challa’s uncle or another long-lost cousin?” Everyone seemed to assume he is one or the other. 

“Neither, I’m just older.” M’Baku accepts the deflection and goes on to say.

“They say you have pardoned everyone who participated in the battle at the Great Mound.” Personally, M’Baku didn’t know how much that is worth and he’s yet to see hide nor hair of T’Challa or his family. He wishes the princess and her mother stayed back in Jabari lands as he first suggested. 

“I did. The king will uphold the pardons. But the prince, princess, and queen dowager will remain in preventive custody for now.”

“They will not be at this meeting?” It doesn’t surprise him considering who’s king. A pardon is one thing, giving your enemies platform is another.

“No, they won’t. Would you like to speak to the king privately after this council meeting?” 

He didn’t really want to. Killmonger hadn’t impressed him before and he doesn’t now. M’Baku could tell who is really controlling things and his gut tells him it’s not Killmonger. 

“I would rather speak with T’Challa.” The situation had been dire, yes but the Panther Tribe prince struck him as earnest. Sologon did not. 

“That can be arranged, of course once we finalize certain matters this week, you will be free to return to the mountains. Before your council of mothers come down to get you.” Sologon is probably joking with his last sentence but like everything else it reveals that Sologon knew much more about the Jabari than the average lowlander.

Eventually they come to a stop at a larger hallway, joining a steady flowing crowd of Dora, Council members, Champions and the king himself. Sologon makes his way through the din to the king’s left, a man M’Baku recognizes as Okoye’s husband is already flanking the king’s right. He gets the once-over or in some cases an extended ogling from some of the people standing around. Then they’re all filing into the meeting room. M’Baku hangs back as does the General, so they enter the large circular room together. He finds a chair with his name on it to the left of the elder with a large lip plate. The man is flanked by some tribesmen and his scowl reminds M’Baku of the Jabari 's great mother Oghenetega. M’Baku sits, waiting for the meeting to begin. 

*

*

*

E’Nena is agitated. She masks her agitation well of course as she sits in her usual seat and waits for the General to call the meeting to order. 

They were all shocked by the confirmation that T’Challa survived his fall, and by the events at the Great Mound. However, this situation, days after that confrontation is not at all acceptable. She and the other elders accepted their new king because they assumed T’Challa was dead, because the revelation of T’Chaka’s actions and N’Jobu’s treason all came at the same confusing time. Now that the dust has settled, she wasn’t so inclined to accept just anything. Border Tribe might love their new king, but she did not. She heard the news of him burning down the heart-shaped herb garden, has seen the reports of the man’s military service, as well as gruesome video footage of what is most certainly war crimes. She did not trust him to be Wakanda’s king nor did she believe he is suited for the role of the Black Panther. The Damisa-Sarki is a protector not an indiscriminate killer. 

As the Mining Tribe’s voice on the Elder’s council, she has several bones to pick. First the appearance of this stranger, Sologon. He claimed to be Panther Tribe but like N’Jadaka son of N’Jobu, there is no record of him. Yet this stranger had then gone on to direct Wakanda’s affairs in the king’s name. She saw clearly Sologon’s validity rested on the fact that many witnessed him defeat not just this new king but T’Challa in combat. An unequal combat considering the news that T’Challa apparently stole some heart-shaped herb for his second confrontation with N’Jadaka. The priests confirmed Sologon had not ingested the heart-shaped herb, and that wherever his preternatural abilities came from it wasn’t from Bast. 

If anything, it scares her more. First this new foreign king, and now a stranger who is apparently stronger than a powerful warrior like T’Challa? Then there were the Jabari. Lord M’Baku has been skulking around the capital, no doubt spying and disturbing peace. It all seemed very ill-advised to her.

The General calls the meeting to order once everyone is accounted for. The king speaks first.

Unlike their first official meeting with the new king, N’Jadaka speaks in accented common Wakandan. He spoke in English that last meeting, to harangue them and announce his 1st mandate as king. He follows protocol this time to greet each elder as well as the Jabari leader. It strikes her that something is different. It isn’t just Sologon’s presence, no the king’s demeanor is changed. She struggles to pinpoint just what is changed as he finishes the proper pleasantries to ask River Tribe Elder on the whereabouts of his champion. They all noticed of course, and the king’s invitation for this meeting specifically requested that each tribe elder bring their champion with them. 

“She is unable to attend.” Yetunde answers and she wonders if the elder approved or disapproved of his champion snubbing the king. The River tribesman gives no explanation as to her reason for not being present, the king in turn doesn’t ask. It goes on like that with the king asking each elder one question or another, usually relevant to the reports they sent at the beginning of the month. He hadn’t mentioned their reports in the last meeting, but now he listens attentively as the Merchant Tribe elder Rajvahi talks about Birnin Syan’s recent festival and promises to visit after Border Tribe elder Sampani announces the Rhino birthing season has been unusually fruitful this year. 

It’s all she can stand to do to listen as each elder, even Yetunde, seems to fold to the king’s questions and inquiries about their respective tribes. None of them raise the matter of the queen dowagers’ imprisonment, neither the recent disturbing footage released by the princess, or even the king’s first failed mandate. N’Jadaka spends the longest time talking with the Lord M’Baku.

"If you invited me here to kill me, I'd have liked a better audience." Lord M’Baku’s bravado is irritating, as is his disparaging comment to the gathered elders and champions.

If the king is bothered, she cannot tell. 

"You were invited to represent the Jabari. I'm told you challenged my cousin before I did. Something your people haven't done in ages. So, this is me giving the Jabari tribe a say." So, the king intends to make allies of the Jabari.

Lord M'Baku cocks his head to one side, appearing unimpressed. “Are you trying to prove something? That you're so different from the kings that came before you?” 

When the king responds his tone is icy. "I don't need to prove anything, everyone in this room knows I'm different. I'm not my cousin if you challenge me, I will kill you. Consider this a mercy."

"The mercy of an honor-less fighter is rare. It's rare that they want nothing in return. What do you want from the Jabari tribe?" The disrespect coming from the Jabari leader is to be expected, and she finds she agrees with his assessment.

"I want you all to not become a liability to the rest of Wakanda, I can infer some of the issues you're probably having right now. We could help. In return I want your cooperation in my future plans." The king does not deny being honor-less or rise to the challenge in Lord M’Baku’s disrespectful words. He seems to be angling for something else. 

“Your reputation precedes you,  _ 'Killmonger' _ . How exactly will your war help my people?” 

"Would you rather your people lose their way of life instead? Do you think those outside of Wakanda will put this planet's survival ahead of their greed?"

The king’s remarks seem to hit a nerve and Lord M’Baku rises to his feet, then seems to think better of it. The king doesn’t even flinch and standing at the throne’s left Sologon watches the scene unbothered. 

“I want nothing but good for my people, and I expect nothing of the outside world looks disgusted with even the thought , but do tell, how do you plan to fix our problems? —And quickly too, before our mountain turns to sludge and floods half of Wakanda straight into the sea.” E’Nena doesn’t react to Lord M’Baku’s last sentence. It is merely alarmist, nonsense. They had years before the climate changes affecting their region became an actual problem for them and already working on various solutions. It isn’t their problem if the Jabari weren’t so capable. 

"Come to the security briefing, you seem to understand the severity of the situation better than others in the room." 

Lord M’Baku doesn’t respond to the invitation and the king doesn’t seem to expect him to.

Then suddenly the king is addressing her. 

“Umdala, your report is very short. I’ve also been told you have issues with the current distribution plans for our mining plants.”

She’s expecting several things but not for the king to bring up a matter his predecessors had to be forced to talk about. It takes her aback. But she guards her heart to this obvious manipulation. 

“My report reflects the number of matters worth mentioning. N’Jadaka, when will the queen dowager and the princess be released?” She is careful to use the name he gave them and not the one that’s been floating on Wakandan tongues, Killmonger. She is also careful not to call his actions outright imprisonment, though they all know it is. If he’s bothered by her ignoring the second part of his inquiry his face doesn’t show it. 

“The queen dowager and the princess were placed in custody for their safety. Once I can be sure they won’t be harmed if released from protective custody, they will be released.” The king’s Wakandan is heavily accented but understandable, he uses a different word for dowager than she had. Her word implied a direct relation to the king, his address did not.

“How long will that take? What threats are there to their safety?” She received some troubling messages from the queen through her daughter. 

“This isn’t meant to be a security briefing, Umdala but if you are worried, we can talk after this meeting, maybe arrange a meeting between you and the dowager.” He’s starting to look irritated and she finally pinpoints the difference. The king is at ease, it showed in his movements throughout the meeting, in his expression and in the set of his shoulders. Before he addressed them as if he were some hot-blooded researcher presenting their dissertation to a room full of reviewers. Now his demeanor assumed a more relaxed approach and it turned her stomach. He dismisses her concern as easily as his predecessors had her tribes’ grievances when it concerned the management under the mountain. She’s sure whatever ‘security risks’ he is so concerned about were fake. But she doubts anyone would challenge him on it, not after the disaster of a confrontation days ago.

“I will.” She steadies herself before making her next point. “Where is the prince?” They have been informed that the prince is also in custody, but they had much more information for the dowager and princess than they did for prince T’Challa. Instead of answering her the king spares a glance towards his seat, where Sologon is also standing. “Sologon?”

They all watch the interaction and E’Nena wonders at the implication that the king did not know where the prince is or that he would allow another answer for him.

Sologon clears his throat and addresses the room. “Prince T’Challa is in preventative custody. Unlike the princess and dowager, he has been deemed a risk to the order of law. N’Jadaka upholds the pardon for his attempted insurrection but cannot in good faith release him for the time being.” As Sologon is speaking, the king walks back to sit down.

Sologon’s announcement opens the floor to less safe topics from the other elders. E’Nena tries not to smirk. They have been waiting for her to speak, the crafty old dodgers. They knew she would raise the issue and thus make it safer for them to concur or ask their own questions. Unfortunately, the pattern from her conversation continues with either the king or Sologon giving platitudes or pacifying promises to speak in private later. She doesn’t like the latter promise, better that these conversations be held in full view of everyone than some private instance in which each tribe's elder would no doubt seek some sort of favor for themselves.

Amusingly, it is Merchant Tribe’s elder Rajvahi who brings up the failed mandate. She does it in an utterly Merchant Tribe fashion as to inquire about the funding the division recently appropriated. 

“My first directive has been repealed but the division will keep the funds for future projects.”

Rajvahi doesn’t seem to like this answer, neither does E’Nena. “Will there be similar directives in the future? The division has over-extended its jurisdiction as of late.” That remark gets some murmurs out of the room. 

If Sologon is bothered by the shift in conversation he doesn’t show it, the king does, however. E’Nena watches N’Jadaka’s neutral expression melt into something much less neutral. 

“Elder Rajvahi, could you share the reasons for your hesitation? To my knowledge the division has only requisitioned necessary funds and increased its working numbers for the year. Nothing that would be considered an overstep on their part.” Sologon’s tone is perfectly conversational, making E’Nena sense a trap. Rajvahi must as well, because she answers carefully. 

“Those two changes are enough to cause issues for each tribe asked to assist in fund collection or worker quotas.” Another vaguely impolite statement. E’Nena herself is already facing inquiry from clan heads who did not want their family members to be marked ‘available’ for the division’s new mandates. Not an issue till nearly every major Mining clan head approached her to request similar consideration. As for the redirected funds… well that would affect Merchant Tribe more. Something that she and others have raised issues with in the past. Merchant Tribe due to its land holdings and near monopoly of certain trade and artisan guilds is usually the first to be involved with projects requiring more than resources and people.

“Perhaps we should speak after the meeting? If you or anyone else is having issues assisting the division, we can find alternatives.” Sologon’s response is the same as it’s been to other tribe specific issues. It’s quite different from the previous king and his father’s approach. T’Chaka liked to deal with tribe specific issues in the open, not discuss them in private. It’s something E'Nena, while not always fond of, grew accustomed to. This decision to discuss in private would not be good for transparency, but if this new king is angling to cut deals with each of them, she doubts any would turn him down. At least till it is time to raise an issue to the deal another is offered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always down to talk Wakandan world-building, add me on discord or message me on tumblr.


End file.
